The Black Ribbon (continued)
by DianaCennar
Summary: A continuation of a (supposed) one-shot "The Black Ribbon" Love. Turmoil. Friendship. Hatred. What happens after the storm?
1. Chapter 1

**The Black Ribbon (Continued…because I apparently do not know the meaning of 'one-shot')**

**As a total Team-Erik person, I can't seem to simply leave off a story where our beloved Vitcome wins. For those that dislike happy endings, then I advice you not to read the following..."The Black Ribbon (one-shot)" is in itself its own story. However for those of you that holds some sympathy for our Phantom, then read on.**

**This is merely a teaser for a longer story. I started off in italics then entire "The Black Ribbon" one-shot (so if you have not read it before, it is here) and added on a little at the end. **

**Till next time! Hope you enjoy! **

_Appearances are deceitful little things. In the cold social world they work wonders; need I even name all the situations that went in my favor just because of charms and handsome smiles? However heaven forbids that superficial gift to claim its power on all life's aspects. _

_ A fact that I have come to loathe. So much in fact that I have dared to curse heaven itself. And perhaps that is why I am staring at my fiancée's heartbreaking demeanor. She's sitting by the doors of the balcony, staring intently at the clear night sky as the wind causes her hair to gently dance around her face, framing it. It is times like these when her beauty takes my breath away. _

_ She sat still, not giving away one clue that she was not a perfectly carved statue. I have been informed by the maids that she have not moved all day. In fact ever since I brought her here to my estate, she has never left this room. Her food untouched, her words unheard and her actions unseen, I am now beginning to become worried. At least she finally changed out of that calamitous wedding dress. Albeit hesitantly. _

_ I walked into the room, taking gentle strides as to not startle her. Kneeling down in front of her I tried to look into her eyes. "Christine." I gently bid. _

_ Slowly, she turned her face and looked at me. I could not interpret her emotions. What once was the shinning, spirited girl is now unreadable. My heart clenched and once again my mind cursed him. _

_ "Christine," I tried again._

_ It was a while before she answered me, and when she did she struck me speechless. _

_ "Yes Raoul?"_

_ How was I to answer? _

_ And when I failed to reply she turned her gaze once again up to the night sky. I followed suit. _

_ The stars really are beautiful, drastic and brilliant against the dark abyss that is the night. However there was no trace of the moon, no trace of the light that once shone against the dark. _

_ And before I could try again to reach her, my attention was caught by a servant by the door._

_ "Master Raoul," he said, "There is someone here to see you."_

_ "Thank you," I nodded once. The servant bowed and left._

_ I turned back to Christine, her gaze never faltering on the stars. And with a sigh, I got up and went out to see my mysterious visitor. Who can it be? It is so late into the night._

_ I was informed that he was out in the gardens and with a puzzled expression I bid thanks to the servant. Walking outside into the cold night's breeze I felt instantly rejuvenated, breathing in deeply I allowed the cold sharp air enter and fill my body, and breathing out hoping to release the haunting dread that has tormented me for the past ten days. _

_ I glanced around as my eyes adjusted to the dark and my eyes set on a tall silhouette. Instantly I felt my stomach clench and a chill ran down my spine. Determined not to show any signs of weakness I stood my ground, walking to him and stopping just ten feet away. Looking straight at his face I calmly stated_

_ "Can I help you Monsieur?"_

_ And that was when he looked me in the eyes, and immediately I felt a twinge of pity and God forbid; guilt. I recalled that fateful night on the Opera House roof, and Christine's voice echoed in my ears: "And in his eyes, all the sadness of the world". And now I cannot help but agree. _

_The man standing in front of me had the impeccable façade of the Opera Ghost; with his elegant dressing and stark white porcelain mask. On the outside there reveals no break or weakness in character, however his eyes conveyed a very different story._

_ It is hard to describe a man who seemingly has his soul torn away from him, broken was not a word that could do it justice. _

_ "Is she well?" He asked. I cringed as his words registered in me._

_ "Not as well as I hope for her to be," I replied back, determined to not reveal the true state of her conduct. "Rest assured Monsieur she will be fully recovered soon."_

_ He nodded. _

_ For a long while we stood there in silence, neither willing to break and turn away. And then he held out his hand to reveal a satin black ribbon, tied into a perfect bow._

_ "One last favor Vitcome," he said, his eyes pleading. "Give this to her and tell her I am sorry, and that I would give my life if it means that I could turn back time and stop myself from ever breaking the pretense of angel."_

_ Hesitantly I gave a small nod and took the ribbon. And without another second's pause I turned and walked into the house. Before closing the door I looked out once more into the garden, and saw no further trace of him. Slamming the door shut and locking it, I called my servant and told him to dispose of the ribbon._

_ Afterwards I walked back upstairs and headed straight for Christine's room, and paused once again at her door. Pondering back to the black ribbon, I forced back the guilt that was fervently surfacing. It is for Christine's benefit, I told myself. For the black ribbon symbolized the Phantom, his devotion, his adoration… his love. The red rose with the black ribbon used to always be Christine's most sought for award after her performances, and now…and now after all that has happened…no, no I will not allow another black ribbon to ever grace her sight again._

_ Taking quick strides I walked up to her and knelt down again in front of her. _

_ "Christine," I said._

_ Slowly she turned to meet my eyes. _

_ And without hesitation this time, I told her_

_ "Erik is dead." _

For a long moment I stared back at Raoul, my mind refusing to comprehend what he had told me. And then all at once everything came crashing.

_**Erik is dead.**_

Raoul's words echoed in my head.

**_Erik is dead._**

Erik, Erik my Angel.

**_Erik is dead._**

But a Phantom cannot die.

**_Erik is dead._**

No.

No he is not. I refuse to believe it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Night time in Paris is a beautiful sight. The stars shone magnificently, the full moon burned bright; rivaling the sun. The newly built Eiffel Tower sparkled with light that watched over the entire city; aiding the busy Parisians as they hurried home for the evening. And amongst these people was one of Eiffel's own designers…no, not Gustave Eiffel…his name is Erik, Erik Destler.

It was rare for Monsieur Destler to be wandering out in the city; for the man usually prefers the quiet solitude found in his own home. However tonight was a very different story.

Turning down a narrow street; _la rue de la Obscurité,_ or so as the people called it, Erik walked down the pebbled path. His strides what used to be of confidence and power, was now feeble and defeated.

He was alone, for no one dares to wander down there. Rumor has it that the ancient street was haunted by spirits and phantoms; Erik scoffed at that idea.

Reaching a grand door of elaborate carvings, he stopped and knocked.

_Where is she?_ Meg Giry thought furiously as she paced impatiently around her chamber.

A word needs to be put in about Meg and her temper. The young ballerina has no patience, nor does she take frustration lightly when it comes to matters of consequence. What normally would be a charming, innocent, amiable girl would suddenly become unrecognizable to those outside of family and friends.

In an attempt to let out her anger, she took a pillow and threw it at her door. Right on cue came in her mother, who although caught the pillow, was forced back a step by the impact.

"Marguerite Diandra Beatrice Giry!" Antoinette scolded as she placed the pillow gently back onto the bed. "Etiquette, patience, my dear!"

Meg rolled her eyes, "Etiquette and patience mother? How can one retain etiquette and be patient in times such as this?"

Antoinette sighed; she took a seat on the edge of the bed and buried her tired eyes into her hands.

Instantly Meg felt a twinge of guilt. It was not her mother's fault, Meg knew that she was trying her best, and after her long day out, must have been absolutely exhausted.

Walking up to her mother, Meg sat down and reached an arm around her and held her close. Antoinette embraced her daughter back, tightly holding onto her. No, she would not lose another family member.

"Any word of her?" Meg asked softly, her face still buried in her mother's hair.

Antoinette sniffed and shook her head, backing away to look her only daughter in the eyes.

"I've tried my little Meg," she whispered, tears welled up in her eyes.

"What of him?"

Antoinette shook her head, "Nothing."

Meg nodded slowly, as if her mind was trying to block out the unwanted facts. After a long period of silence, Meg spoke, "Is there anything else we can do? Is there anyone else who can help us?"

Antoinette stayed silent, her eyes seemed vacant.

Meg sighed and got up. Perhaps a cup of tea will help her mother.

But just before Meg could reach the door, Antoinette spoke

"Nadir Khan."

Meg froze. _Nadir Khan_. The name sounded so familiar. A cold chill ran down her spine and settled in her stomach.

"Nadir Khan?" Meg repeated the name, turning around.

Antoinette nodded. "Erik mentioned him before. Nadir is the only man that Erik trusts. He's our last chance."

Meg couldn't move. That dreadful feeling in her stomach turned much worse.

************************************  
Darius was surprised to hear the knock on the door. Who would visit in this time of the night? Puzzled, the young Persian quickly dressed and went to answer the visitor, not wishing to disturb his master.

Pulling back the heavy frame, Darius gasped.

"Master Erik!"

"Evening Darius," Erik bid. "I hope I am not of great disturbance."

Darius was taken back. Master Erik has never bothered to care about his disturbance on him and Master Nadir…much less knocked. As a result the benevolent servant became worried.

"No of course not Master!" Darius quickly replied and gestured him in. "Come in, come in!"

Erik nodded his appreciation and stepped into the house. Darius closed the door and led him into the parlor.

"Who is our visitor Darius?" Nadir Khan stepped downstairs, dressed in his night robe. And after seeing his old friend's weak demeanor, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Erik!" Nadir strode quickly towards him and with two hands on Erik's shoulders, lead him to sit down. Nadir sat onto the sofa facing him and with a wave of his hand, instructed Darius to bring forward some tea.

Nadir carefully observed his friend. There were no physical injuries, although he is thinner than was before. And of course, one could not miss his obvious despair and melancholy; which was what Nadir worried about most. During all the twenty years he has known Erik, Nadir has never seen him quite so…helpless, defeated, broken…devastated. And even God knows that the man had been through hell and back, quite a few times actually.

_Pray Allah,_ Nadir thought. _Please help him. _

Darius arrived with a tray of black tea and lemon, with some baklava he had made earlier that night. He sat on a chair beside Erik and poured a cup of tea, making sure to squeeze some drops of lemon juice before handing it to him.

Erik didn't move. "Thank you Darius, but no." He said instead, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Looking at Nadir with creased eyebrows, Darius was at a loss of what to do.

Nadir was taken back as well. _Since when does Erik say 'thank you'? To Darius and I no less. _

"Erik," said the ex-police officer, his voice firm yet gentle. "What is wrong?"

It was a while before the masked man answered; all the while making Nadir and Darius more and more anxious. Darius gently set the cup of tea down and placed the tray on a nearby table; thinking furiously of what to do.

"Christine." Erik finally managed out. He blinked back tears and took a deep breath, "Christine…Nadir, Darius I…"

All at once, the two men understood. Nadir sighed and shook his head, "What about her Erik?"

Erik forced back a sob and placed his head in his hands, "I've lost her…for…for good."

"How are you so sure Master Erik?" Darius tried.

"The things I've done," Erik's voice was so soft that the two men had to lean in to catch every word. "She would never forgive me… nor would I."

"Erik you…"

"There is nothing left to do Daroga," Erik cut in before Nadir could finish.

"Very well," Nadir replied, his heart sinking as if feeling the pain that Erik was feeling; but he knew that was impossible.

"I have come here tonight to ask one favor," Erik looked at Nadir in the eyes, and then Darius.

"Of course, anything, Master Erik," Darius replied.

"Watch over her for me, Christine, make sure that she will be happy and safe."

Nadir frowned, "But what of you?"

Erik forced a small laugh. "Me? What more is there for me to do Nadir? I am going to die."

Meg had a bad feeling as she walked into the city office with her mother. They were there to find the abode of this; Nadir Khan. Meg shuddered at the thought of that name.

_Who is this man?_

The two women walked up to the front desk and saw a middle aged man asleep at the desk. He was snoring quite loudly and was slumped across the table.

Antoinette did not have time for that.

"Monsieur!" She slapped her hand on the table.

The man jumped and was startled awake. "Yes…yes Madame!" then he frowned. "What are you two ladies doing here at this time of the night?"

"We have no time for small conversation Monsieur," Antoinette replied as she grabbed a chair and sat down facing the man.

"Madame I need you to calm down," the man said as he straightened his shirt. "We are off duty at this hour."

"Do not talk to us about being off duty," Meg suddenly spoke up. Quite loudly, almost frantic, perhaps her unsettling feels about Nadir Khan is getting to her. "We need to find a man and no it cannot wait till tomorrow!"

The man was shocked at Meg's outburst, but he quickly hid his surprise and gave a fake sigh. "Mademoiselle…"

"Please Monsieur Allemande," Antoinette interrupted, her hands on the faded name plate. Setting it down with a loud _thud_ on the table, she looked him straight in the eyes. "We _need_ to find this man and it is an absolutely emergency."

Allemande let out a sigh of defeat. "Very well, and who is this gentleman you wish to seek?"

"Nadir Khan," Antoinette replied with a breath of relief.

And nearby the front desk, sat a man who heard their entire conversation; he smiled. And unknown to the three who were busy in search of Khan's address, he slipped out silently.


End file.
